My fingers clasped and released, as an uncomfortable aura hit my eyes. I puffed my cheeks prepping myself and finally, swung the heavy door open and entered inside. By then all were standing in perfect arrangement of squares. I slowly tiptoed towards the purple section and slid in between taller kids to stand in the last row.

"Well, well. Look who's here. The celebrity of our town. Ms. Leela Das!" Coach Zach raised corners of his mouth up into an evil smile. "Come on, step out. Don't be shy..."

I crossed my hands behind my back. But the nervous clawing of fingers into each other had already begun. I didn't dare lift my gaze up. After all, I was late. More than late.

"I suppose you are a born fighter? And now it seems like you are a celebrity too? Impressive." He widened his egoistic, evil smile and pointed towards the hall and continued his drama, "what an example you've set to the 'girls' of my class! Bravo."

Was it a compliment? Certainly, it didn't sound like one.

All others started muttering and giggling, talking behind my back.

"Silence." Zach raised his palm up. I knew he could be a awful lot of a person. But that day, he took it far ahead than it was necessary. All the respect that I had for him, crumbled into dust under my feet. I didn't speak a word, even though it stung my heart. But, I didn't lift my gaze either, as if I was accepting it was all my fault.

"On your mark!" he commanded. I stepped forward hesitantly and walked past all the purples, who were standing in 'stand at ease' position -widening their legs and reached the arena, which was nothing but a royal blue mat spread across the pale wooden floor infront of us.

"You are late to 'my' class. That means punishment. Celebrity or not, every one who doesn't respect the rules of my club, needs to be punished. Right?" He asked circling me like a wolf as I traced his black shoes fading out of my vision.

"Stomach block, forward punch, two steps ahead. Go!" He instructed the fight move, yelling in an unforgiving voice.

That 'move' was a basic one, he hadn't asked us purples to do that since long -long time. I frowned, but I instantly bowed down to obey and to escape his eyes from noticing my frown. He nodded in approval.

I kicked my legs and stepped forward, showing my right flexed elbow, as if I was blocking a blowing jab and darted my fists alternatively, letting a threatening shriek out of my throat as I stopped and bowed down again, completing my task.

"Again." He laid it flat, holding his clip board behind his back.

I repeated the same movements, 'block, dart, move'. But before I could complete the last part of the move, Zach pulled my darting fists up and yelled at my face, "higher."

"AND STRAIGHTER!" He said, pressing his fist on my back bone, with a hint of disgust in his gaze

"Yes sir." I nodded.

"Louder." He screamed with a glare.

"Yes sir!" I squalled crackling my voice. Previous day's soot in my throat was totally casting its spell.

"Nick. Come here." He flicked his stubby fingers, summoning his favourite student of the club.

Nick's first step lagged hesitantly. But the next one was faster and next to that one was almost enthusiastic. He trudged and stood beside me and bowed down, bending his arrogant head a little too far down -more than it was necessary.
Perhaps, that's why he was Zach's pet student. But then again, I think I was wearing my sexist pink goggles that very day, since everyone appeared​ unmasked, unraveled and mean only towards me.

"Positions." Zach spoke, now his voice seemed a little calm, yet intimidating.

Nick turned towards me, as I turned towards​ him. His olive eyes pierced into mine, they were cold and daunting at the same time.

"Mock fight. Drill number three." Zach's cue was loud and clear.

'Three. Drill number three...' I tried to recall searching through a web of tangled memories in the back of my skull. But even before that, Nick's darting fist had already slashed through the air towards me. Luckily, It didn't reach me, because my elbow had somehow successfully blocked it. 'Muscle memory!'
I swung my arm against his chest, he successfully blocked it. Of course he did, he was a black belt after all.

Another punching fist.
I clasped it and rotated, wrapping myself into his arms and almost grabbed his legs to slam him onto the wooden floor. But I didn't.
Because, next second I was on the floor, lying on my back, wincing my face in pain and bellowing a low groan. 'I almost had him..how did he? How could he?'

'Now, get up. Get your ass up!' Inner Lee pleaded, the one who never liked to be defeated. But I was definitely a failure....At least for that day.

A stubby and wrinkly hand appeared into my frame of vision, from upside down. I held it and sat myself up.

"You don't deserve to be a purple at all. Have you seen yourself? Your face? It's pathetic, it cries in despair. This is what the 'girls' of my club look up to? Such a shame, such a waste..." He shook his head and chuckled.
"You are a 'nobody' in here. I don't know about 'out there'. But here, you are still an empty cup. Am I clear?"

All that girly tears I was holding until, came rushing and crashing, filling and brimming my eyes, flowing down my ego hurt face. I stood up, sniffing and wiping my cheeks. 'Why is he targeting me? Was it my mistake to get stuck in that dumb elevator? To get saved by that dumb Neon?'

"Yes, sir." I nodded, my voice broke and trembling.

"Louder."

"Yes sir!"

"Now, out! Never return to the club, until you can fight like a real purple. And I am damn serious this time." He pointed his index to the exit door.

I bowed my head down, a little lower this time, since it turned out that I was an unripe fruit - an empty cup after all. Before he pinched my ears and pushed me out of the club, I turned around to leave and save the embarrassment for another day. But those same cold green eyes stood blocking me, pitying me. I felt my fingers curl up into fists and tense into balls, I didn't know why? But that rage, that anger and despair...the same 'despair' that Zach was talking about, showed up anyway.

"Are you happy now?" I asked him, looking straight into his face. Before he could answer, I had pushed him out of my way.

I walked down the aisle that separated green and yellow shirted kids standing in perfect straight lines on either side. As I walked past them, I met those same ice blue eyes. His face was neither pitying me, nor worried for me. Pete stood there, his face calm, but with only a hint of concern. And I appreciated it, like the other day at Nova-Gen.

I half jogged and half walked to reach my backpack lying on the wooden floor, leaning against a white wall painted with many martial-art-prodigies. I sniffed a booger back into my nose and picked up my sipper, half zipped my bag and stormed out swinging the exit door wide open.

One step, two steps...then followed another set of distinct steps.

'No Pete, don't you dare pity on me. I am fine, I don't need anybody's help.. especially not yours, please.'

"Lee!"

My fleeing feet stopped suddenly. The voice had a unique shade to it, of red, of black- like that of a burning coal. It was Nick. It must be!

I didn't turn around, but waited there squeezing the strap of my backpack, wishing he'd approach and kneel infront and say a big sorry and all that. I know, that's a ridiculous assumption.

He hastily trudged and stood beside me. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asked, holding my shoulder.

"Hurt?" I chuckled, flinching my shoulder away from his fingers. "Isn't that exactly what you want...to hurt me?"

"Look, I didn't mean to..."

I showed him my palm, squeezing my eyes shut. "Stop it. You know what? You are a sly fox..." I said, totally oblivious of the fact that my index was poking his chest and I reflexively took it back once his accusing eyes darted down to look at it.

"All you need is fame and name. You broke my leg, just before the state tournament last time and now, yet again...looks like some people never learn from their mistakes." I ranted, almost jumping on my toes to match his height. "And I bet you wouldn't hesitate doing that again to your best frien..." I didn't complete the word, I was no more friends with him, right? No more.

"You know what? Forget it. I am done. I am done with you." I turned around to walk away, although an evil side of me wanted to see his face turn pale and his eyes sag down, now that I had spoken the truth.

A few steps ahead, I heard him take my name and yell after me.
"You know what?" He said, almost mimicking my tone. "You... are a 'Heartless-Overachieving- lunatic-Antisocial-loner,' yeah. I said it."

Although I stopped, a part of my heart told me to continue and walk away. But another one anchored me to the place with a question - is that what he thinks of me -an overachieving antisocial loner?

I turned around, my vision blurring, my eyes warm and wet. My lips parted only a little to say something, but nothing... nothing came out, except for the one and only word, "Ouch!"

He smirked and left the place, disappearing behind the wooden doors of the practice hall. I stood there, still thinking of his words. My heavy bag slipped down my shoulders and onto the floor hurting my feet.

But that was some how less painful than his cold stinging words.